False Starts, Near Misses and Dangerous Goods

by Geoff Body

  The Gloucester district covered an interesting area, extending from the Lickey Incline and Abbotswood Junction to Bristol St Philips and Bath with branches to Upton-on-Severn, Stroud, Dursley and Sharpness – also the route from Ashchurch via Broom Junction and all the way east to Stratford-upon-Avon and Towcester. During my first months I covered most of the stations in the district and the yardmaster’s posts at Gloucester Upper yard, Westerleigh and Bristol St Philips. The junior relief stationmasters also had to cover the posts of stationmaster’s clerk at Gloucester and Cheltenham.

  It was a time of continuing reorganisation and Gloucester finished up with a larger district bounded by Blackwell, Moreton-in-Marsh, Stow-on-the-Wold, Purton, Berkeley Road, Awre Junction, Fawley and Stoke Edith. I was kept pretty busy and in one particular week I covered the stationmaster’s clerk position at Eastgate during the day and then worked in Lansdown booking office until 10 p.m. On the Saturday I did the half-day at Gloucester and the whole of the late turn at Cheltenham, following it up with a Sunday turn as well. With a new house and mortgage the money was useful, and the work more congenial than the occasion when I had to go from Upton-on-Severn to Lansdown and take over from staff suspected of serious irregularities.

  During my five years in the job I worked at nearly every possible location in the district and undertook a host of special tasks. The latter included assisting at Standish Junction on Saturdays during the holiday season, the box there controlling both the Bristol and Stroud lines and having a very busy time with trains on the Midland line and on the GWR route via Honeybourne, as well as the Swindon–Gloucester locals. One of the few stations I had not relieved at was Moreton-in-Marsh and strangely, or as a bit of staff office enterprise, I found myself sent there for two weeks before being appointed to the permanent stationmaster/goods agent position.

  Located in the lovely North Cotswolds, Moreton was a rather ‘feudal’ station, with a well-regulated existence and staff who had been there for ages and were quite set in their ways. It served a wealthy area and gave us many first-class passengers with very regular travel habits and who were the prey of station foreman Harry, who had an unerring sense of who would produce the best tip. Goods clerk Wesley who stepped in to cover the daily gap between the early and late booking office turns was another character. He invariably wore a long raincoat and a trilby hat that was turning green with age and kept his cycle clips on all day. He sang in the church choir and apparently even kept the clips on beneath his cassock. Even train crews seemed to have their unusual habits, with those detained for any length of time in our Down goods loop apparently having temporary membership of the nearby British Legion Club.

  After a couple of years my tenure at Moreton was cut short by more reorganisation which made me redundant and, in 1966, saw me covering the post of area manager at Evesham where one incident in particular sticks in my memory. It followed the reporting of a broken rail in the long section between Evesham and Pershore. The only available spare rail was in Evesham yard and, as luck would have it, there was a diesel locomotive on hand as well. Unfortunately there were no ordinary wagons on which to load the rail, just a small ex-GWR special shunters truck – hardly an ideal vehicle for the task.

  After some local consultation with the permanent-way staff we contrived to get the rail on to the shunters truck, securely lashed down but with an overhang of some 8ft at the rear and almost sagging to the ballast. A red flag was tied to the end of the rail, the permanent-way gang jumped on and off we went, albeit slowly and not without some anxiety. We had just over an hour before the next train was due and no time was lost in the process of unloading, cutting and replacing. Returning hastily, and certainly a lot faster than when we set out, we just managed to get our train put ‘inside’ at Pershore with not more than a very small delay to the following train.

  THE LOCO

  As part of his TA training, Geoff Body spent five weeks at the busy and varied March motive power depot

  Located between March station and Whitemoor marshalling yard, March ‘Loco’ was an important activity centre with all the facilities needed to look after its 143 locomotives, as well as the lesser needs of the many others which arrived on inwards services and required the normal turnround facilities before taking up their return working.

  It was a busy area altogether in railway terms, and one with very varied motive power requirements. March station itself dealt with passenger trains on the East Anglia–Doncaster/York route via the Great Northern and Great Eastern Joint Line, along with those via Ely to and from Peterborough and beyond and the numerous local services including those on the Wisbech/King’s Lynn and St Ives branches. Freight activities centred around Whitemoor, which had a constant stream of trains feeding the voracious capacity of its Up hump. Re-sorted, their loads moved on to London and East Anglia, with a balancing movement of empties and evening express departures from the Down side of the complex.

  Water cranes like this were an essential and common feature in the days of steam. (Roy Gallop)

  March depot’s own locomotive fleet was very varied with V2 2-6-2 (six engines) and B17 4-6-0 (twelve engines) classes for the prestige passenger services, D16 4-4-0s (six) for local passenger trains, K1 and K3 2-6-0s (twenty-five and nineteen respectively) for coal trains and empties, O1 and WD big freight machines (twenty-five and fifteen) and a host of various J Class 0-6-0s (thirty-four) for the mixed-traffic role they filled everywhere. There was one 9F-Class engine and ten diesel electrics.

  The March engines were maintained in the main shed between their dates for ‘shopping’, with the major overhaul usually carried out where the locomotive had been built. This interval was based on time and mileage considerations to ensure that there would be no failure in traffic.

  Incoming ‘foreign’ power (i.e. engines from other depots diagrammed to carry out another job after attention) required different facilities. Their needs would be met by March’s coaling plant, turntable, sand supply, ashpit and water crane. March also had an inspection tunnel to allow checking for steam leaks and a shed for boiler washing out.

  The March depot footplate staff were organised into fifteen ‘links’. Drivers started in the Junior Spare Link and progressed to Link 9, which manned the express passenger services, after which responsibility would lessen by moving to the local passenger and goods links and then to purely local jobs in the pre-retirement years. The task of managing men and machines at a large depot like March was highly complex and depended heavily on the mechanical and running foremen and on the outside foremen controlling the ashpit area, the three-hopper coaling plant and the movements to and from the electric turntable.

  My footplate week came as a pleasant change from crawling into a firebox, building a brick arch and trying to distinguish a cracked stay by tapping the candidates with a hammer. The first day saw me allocated to Diagram 17 and booking on to join Driver Wakeling and Fireman Burgess on Class B17 2-6-0 locomotive No. 61643 Champion Lodge. We dropped down to March station to take over the Newcastle–Lowestoft passenger train, getting away at 2.03 p.m. and arriving at Thorpe station in Norwich at 3.56 p.m. Released to the locomotive depot beside the passenger station, the tasks of coaling, taking water and turning on the turntable left us plenty of time to eat our ‘snap’ before leaving the loco at 7.18 p.m. to head up the 7.38 p.m. Class D partially fitted freight service to Whitemoor. There were no problems but the journey back over the same route took twice as long and it was 10.19 p.m. before we got back, and we still had to get from the yard reception road to the loco depot.

  Diagram 19 the next day meant booking on at 9.54 a.m. in readiness for hauling a Parkeston Quay–Liverpool service between March and Sheffield and then heading the same service back again. With Driver Ward and Fireman Ellington we had again been allocated a B17 2-6-0, this time No. 61619 Welbeck Abbey, but it was to prove a much tougher trip than the one to Norwich and back. For a start 61619 was fresh out of shops and, despite a bit of running in, was very ‘stiff in the bush
es’. Any locomotive wheel arrangement that results in a driving wheel beneath the cab produces more movement on the footplate than occurs with 4-6-2 and 2-6-2 wheel arrangements, and the combination of the two factors meant a lot of oscillation on the Welbeck Abbey footplate and a need to watch out for the sawing motion of the plate covering the join with the tender.

  Our journey from leaving March at 10.34 a.m. to arriving at Sheffield at 1.11 p.m. with a heavy load was a struggle all the way. This bad day did not improve on the return either for, unrefreshed through having had to attend to our own engine, we took over a late runner and simply could not overcome the delay, though not for want of trying. It was a hard trip, interesting and also memorable for my first experience of running through a tunnel, with the bright glow from the open firebox door reflecting on the speeding walls enclosing us and turning the noise of our passage into an eerie scene of demonic symphony. Arrival back at March after nearly another 3 hours of struggle proved something of a relief.

  Apart from one hiccup, my third footplate day was excellent. I was with Driver Head and Fireman Robinson when they booked on at 9.34 a.m. and took V2 Class 2-6-2 No. 60803 out to work the 9.54 a.m. departure from March (the Lowestoft–Newcastle train) as far as York. I knew these V2s to be special in terms of power and reliability and quite capable of taking on pretty well any job within their route availability. I now found out what easy riding they offered, something that made all the difference to my spell of firing. Not only could I keep my feet and get the shovel to the firebox door without mishap, but I could begin to position the coal where it was most needed, that is, where the fire burned brightest. My companions were good company and busied themselves with regulator, notching up and injectors so that I would not feel watched.

  The one bad moment came at Retford. I had dropped down on to the platform to stretch my legs for a moment and when Driver Head asked, ‘OK, mate?’ I thoughtlessly took it as an enquiry as to my wellbeing and was rather shaken when he took my ‘Yes’ as me having seen the guard’s ‘right away’ signal and accordingly opened the regulator. Fortunately, no passenger was half in and half out of the train but there could have been a bad outcome.

  I had recovered my equanimity by the time we got to York and there was no time there to brood over what might have been as we had only an hour before taking over the 2.50 p.m. return working. Our hurried meal in the mess room was enlivened for me by trying to gauge just how much my Norfolk driver and a Geordie he was talking to – both in full dialect – could understand one another. Back into March at 6.27 p.m. after another good run, I felt much better than when I had parted with Welbeck Abbey the previous evening.

  My two remaining footplate days proved somewhat less glamorous, both involving out and home freight trains. On the Thursday I booked on at 7.55 a.m. for Diagram 313, to which Class O1 2-8-0 No. 63875 had been allocated, along with Driver Bradman and Fireman Southwell. We had half an hour in which to leave the depot and get back on to the Class F unbraked train of coal empties in the Down departure sidings and then just 2 hours to get it to Pyewipe yard, just north of Lincoln.

  Our diagram had a layover of nearly 3 hours but then we had what seemed like a bit of luck: we were to leave earlier and bring back a Class C special fast freight. After a mad scramble to collect tools from the stores we climbed on to Class K3 2-6-0 No. 61887 and set about bringing the fire up to scratch. We soon discovered that not only was 61887 a bad riding and noisy engine but the injector was wasting water badly and she just did not steam well. Still, with a great deal of clanking from the motion, we kept going and limped into Whitemoor at 3.30 p.m. after an anxious trip.

  There was more injector trouble on my Friday outward engine, a Class B1 4-6-0 No. 61360, but nothing very serious. Working Diagram 249, Driver Bird and Fireman Lacey had her prepared and got her round to the Up departure sidings in good time to leave Whitemoor at 10.40 a.m. on a Class H goods trip to Bury St Edmunds. Despite a hot big end, our B1 did not have a heavy load and completed the outward journey via Newmarket without loss of time. The mess room at Bury was a poor place and we were quite glad to see the back of it and take over another B1, No. 61252, for the return journey. With a Class D goods and clear signals we covered the distance in 40 minutes less than on the morning run, pulling into Whitemoor reception roads at 3.25 p.m.

  Later on I was to have training periods at Norwich diesel depot and at Ilford electric traction depot, both highly instructive but not quite as exciting as the time spent amid the grime and constant activity at March Loco.

  THE GREAT EAST MIDLANDS STORM

  Chris Blackman had to resort twice to some impromptu saw work to rectify storm damage

  One afternoon in January 1976 when I was assistant area manager at Leicester, the East Midlands was hit by a tremendous storm. I had barely got home, and certainly not drunk my tea, when Nottingham Control rang to advise me that an automatic half-barrier on the Leicester–Melton Mowbray line had failed and there were reports that a train had passed over the crossing before the barriers had come down. This was not good news, with a strong suggestion of a ‘wrong side failure’. Within 2 minutes the tea was in a Thermos flask, my box of emergency equipment had been loaded into the van and I was on my way, dodging odd bits of tree debris in the road.

  As I arrived at the crossing I carried out a quick inspection and noted that all the red zig-zag lights were fully working but one of the barriers had become entangled with a tree that had partially blown down. I discussed the situation with the signalman and took local control of the crossing, then advised the police that their presence was no longer necessary.

  At this point the owner of the house nearest the crossing emerged to find out was going on and why the police blue light was flashing. When I explained the position Mr Neighbour became Mr Helpful and said he would go and get his chainsaw. Five minutes later he was back and we set to work to free the tree from the barrier, a task that was achieved without any damage apparent to the barrier. By this time the technicians had arrived and tested the equipment. After witnessing the correct operation of the barriers when the next train passed, I advised Control and we all went home, but not before I had thanked Mr Helpful for his assistance and promised him and his wife a complimentary return ticket to London or Skegness. Mr Helpful, now Mr Grateful, duly toddled off home with his handy chainsaw!

  I drove home from the barrier-crossing location, negotiating yet more fallen branches and wondering what else the night might have in store. Sure enough, 5 minutes after I reached the house, Control rang to say that all communication had been lost between Syston North and Sileby signal boxes on the main line north of Leicester. I set out again and on arrival at Syston I watched a parcels train coming to a stand at the Up main home signal, having passed slowly through the section under the time interval procedure to examine the line. The driver reported that the Up main was clear but the Down and Up goods line had an obstruction of some sort about half a mile back towards Sileby.

  Frank Granger, the permanent-way inspector, arrived at this moment and together we set out along the Up goods to investigate the obstruction. We struggled forward leaning at about 45 degrees into the wind! Eventually our Bardic lamps revealed a dark mass across the goods lines, which turned out to be the roof of a very large garden shed. It was far too heavy to lift, and I was just wondering what we should do next when, like some magic trick, Frank produced a large saw – from where I know not, as it was far too big to fit into a knapsack or a coat pocket, but then Frank was one of a remarkable breed called p-way inspectors.

  Twenty minutes later we had sawn the shed roof into reasonably sized chunks and then it was just a matter of saying ‘one, two, three, heave’ into the air and letting the wind simply take the chunks clear of the lineside fencing into the adjacent field for the farmer to puzzle over the next day.

  SCIENTIFIC SERVICES

  As Brian Arbon discovered, some people get set in their ways and are unwilling to listen to younger folk

  In
this book and its predecessors there are numerous references to the traffic apprenticeship scheme, which recruited graduates and staff members in roughly equal numbers for special training. By 1960, the year I joined, the three-year programme was made up of two years ‘sitting with Nellie’ and one year of supernumerary jobs. It had, seemingly, run unchanged for a number of years and was in need of an overhaul. Indeed, graduates were beginning to resign part-way through the training, which I suspect was pretty well unheard of previously. In my experience it tended to be pot luck how you got on with the people you were assigned to. Most were informative and friendly and went out of their way to involve you in anything out of the ordinary, but there were a resentful few who were barely communicative.

  There was one such at the small station where, after a short induction course at Derby, my training experience began. One of the lectures at Derby was about the new research department near Alexandra Palace that must have been recently centralised from various regional establishments. Anyway, after a week or two at my small station, the fearsome female keeper from the nearby resident crossing stormed in with what looked like a glass pickled-onion jar full of cloudy, brown water, complaining vociferously that the well (her source of drinking water) was contaminated.

  The chief (and only full-time) clerk told her he would send it to the laboratory at Doncaster for analysis, as he had evidently done before. I somewhat timidly suggested that it should be addressed to ‘Alexandra Palace’, but what could I possibly know, a railwayman of just one month against his forty odd years, so off went the glass jar of dirty water with its tied-on brown label on the train en route to Doncaster.